


Familial Bonds

by Elvesliketrees



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Parenthood, Shenanigans, Violence, mention of slavery, wee!Constance, wee!d'Artagnan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesliketrees/pseuds/Elvesliketrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four year-old Charles d'Artagnan is on his way to Paris with his Father when bandits bring his world crashing down around him. Thus begins a journey with new friends, enemies, and discoveries of family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting d'Artagnan

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, here's the prompt from Chapter 2 of my AU's and One-shots fic! Thank you so much for reading and let me know what you think!

The rain poured out of the heavens in a flood, seeping into garments, clinging to the flesh like skin itself. Alexandre d'Artagnan looked down at the small bundle in front of him and sighed. Charles shifted in the cloak that was wrapped round him, and he tightened his grip around his cloth horse, worn from many adventures around Gascony.

"Buttercup is cold, Father," the boy of four said cautiously.

"Ah, is she?" Alexandre asked. The boy nodded and looked up at him. Though not his in blood, this boy was his son, his heir. Taxes were high in Gascony, and trouble was starting to be whispered of. No, this was best. The woman had told them that they could reach her at this address in Paris, though she was probably thinking of letters, not the boy she had handed them four years four years ago. "Give me your locket, I do not want it damaged by the rain," he instructed, and Charles hurried to do so. This was the only thing the boy had left of the woman, the one mark that she had left to claim him. Alexandre stowed it in a pouch on his belt, and he drew it closed with a piece of string. Hopefully the message he had sent ahead to Paris had been received. He prayed that it had been received. "There's an inn up ahead, Buttercup can warm up there. We'll be in Paris tomorrow afternoon," he said with a smile.

"With stew and bread?" Charles asked hopefully.

"Aye, with stew and bread," he replied. He dismounted in the yard and swung Charles onto his hip, and he pounded on the door. The innkeeper answered, and Alexandre was able to rent a room with a meal. He grabbed the reins of his horse and began to lead him to the barn, Charles still hefted on one hip. However, a group of riders, came splashing up the road, and the leader drew a pistol. "What can I do for you monsieur?" he asked as steadily as he could. Charles burrowed his head in his neck, wary of the armed group.

"Your purse," the man growled, "And the horse." He dropped his purse to the ground and walked over to his steed. He began to untie the bags with unsteady fingers, and then his hands grasped the pistol attached to the saddle. An old weapon, but still able to do it's job.

"Charles, go on inside the inn, I'll be right there," he instructed carefully. They couldn't take the letter, or the locket, they couldn't take them! With a swift motion, he drew the pistol and aimed. He was too slow. A shot echoed through the rain, and a pain screamed through his chest. A shrill scream was heard, and soon a small, frightened face appeared above him. Had he fallen? He heard horses riding away, and he looked up into the face of his son. He withdrew the letter and the locket, but he did not have the strength to speak, to tell him how important they were. With a shaking arm, he pointed down the road to Paris. The boy was smart, he would understand. The last thing Alexandre d'Artagnan saw of his boy was a figure flying down the road, to hope. He only hoped that his message had arrived. He did not realize that the boy had left letter and locket in the mud.

\---

She and the foul man finally reached an inn near Paris. It had been a long week, riding hell-bent for La Havre so that she could "conveniently" meet with Ambassador Mendoza, and then turning right back around near Paris, when it couldn't be known that he was so near, and then having to come to the conclusion she would probably have to kill the man sometime in the next three days. Some days she wondered why she put up with people like Mendoza. But she knew why. Each sous earned was another day earlier that she could write d'Artagnan, inform him that she was ready, and Richelieu paid well. Yes, she did this not for herself, definitely not for bloody France, but for a four year-old in Gascony. She wondered what he looked like now. Did he have her hair, her nose, was he as tall and strong as his father? It did not matter, he was not here, and she was. When they arrived at an inn not half a day from Paris, they were stopped by a commotion in the building. She dismounted and walked in with Mendoza. The innkeeper had a body laid on the table, and he looked up suspiciously at their entry.

"Trouble?" she asked. Best to be concerned, if there was a murderer on the loose in the building, it would not go well for them.

"Bandits, rode in and shot the man here, and then rode off," he sighed.

"Who was he?" she asked. Mendoza looked at her confusedly, why had she asked, why did she care?

"Someone named Alexandre d'Artagnan, he and his boy went to stable their horse while I prepared their room. Heard the shot and ran out, the man was on the ground and the boy was nowhere to be seen. We all looked for 'im, but he's long gone, poor fellow," the innkeeper sighed. Her heart leapt into her throat and she paled.

"Alexandre d'Artagnan, are you sure?" she demanded. The man nodded and turned back to the body.

"Are you alright madame?" Mendoza asked.

"The air does not agree with me, I will see that the servant brings the luggage," she said quietly. Mendoza nodded and went to acquire their room. She walked quickly outside and noticed the spot of red in the earth. Why had d'Artagnan taken the boy out here? She knelt down and beheld the letter and locket almost buried in mud. With determination, she saw that it was indeed the locket she had dreaded it was. Opening the letter with shaking fingers, she began to read.

_Milady,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and that the message I sent to the address you gave my wife and I reached you. If it did not, I apologize. You probably have questions as to why I sent Charles so early. To be frank, there is news of trouble in Gascony. Taxes are high, and the people are uneasy. As my heir, I fear that Charles would be made a target should things escalate. I fear that our arrangement must be sped up. I ask that you take good care of Charles. He ought to be bearing the locket you gifted him with at his birth, along with a scar on his arm due to an accident. I hope to deliver this to you myself, but if not, I ask again that you take good care of the boy. I realize that your reasons for leaving him to myself and my departed wife were your own, but I ask that you move past them now. If this letter is lost, and Charles as well, look for the locket and the scar. The boy would reach about to one's hip, is small, and has dark hair and blue eyes. God be with you, and I pray that my previous message has reached you._

_Alexandre d'Artagnan of Lupiac in Gascony_

The letter fell from her shaking hands. What trouble, what message? She had been gone about one week, had not returned to the address she gave for about two. With a steely glint in her eye, she pocketed both letter and locket. When the innkeeper arose the next morning, Mendoza had done him the inconvenience of slitting his wrists in a bathtub, and his mistress was nowhere to be seen. She had a boy to find.

\---

Paris was big, very big. There were people with horses, people with carts, people with wagons, and people that were walking. There were people selling things, buying things, looking at things, bargaining over things, it was one big noise! d'Artagnan looked about the city with huge eyes and felt very lost. He wanted Mother and Father, but they weren't here, would never be here. His stomach rumbled, and he knew that the last thing he'd had was lunch the day before. There were people shoving by, and he suddenly felt very small. The world was too large, and he was alone in it. It was a long way back to Gascony, and he knew that he would starve before he got there. He had no money, no one he knew, and no idea what to do. Father would have known what to do, but he hadn't told d'Artagnan why they were coming to Paris in the first place. With a whimper, he hugged Buttercup to him and tried not to get pushed over. When he collided with a pair of boots, he looked up at their wearer in fear.

\---

When Athos had woken up that morning, he had cursed the sun for shining so brightly. Didn't it realize he was hungover? Well, obnoxious or not, duty called. He donned his clothes and walked outside, it was early yet and he wanted to be on time for breakfast. When something crashed into his boot, he looked down with a glare. When he saw the trembling figure, small and not much older than a babe, his expression softened. His cloak was soaked, as were his boots, and he had dark rings around his eyes. He picked up a cloth horse and looked up at him with watery eyes. Oh dear. He knelt down and braced himself. The interactions between himself and children were better not remembered or spoken of. He prayed that no one came away from this crying.

"Hello little one, did you lose your Mother?" he asked quietly. Tears leaked out of the boy's eyes, and he mentally slapped himself.

"Lost Father," he whispered.

"Oh, and when did you last see him? If you can tell me where he was, we can go look for him," Athos stated.

"Last night, bandits shot him," the boy whispered. Fantastic, absolutely fantastic.

"Do you have anywhere to go, where is your home?" he asked.

"Gascony, Father and I were staying at an inn, and he wanted to get here for lunch, but the bandits came," the boy said.

"Can you tell me your name?" Athos asked. There was really no way they could get the boy back to Gascony.

"d'Artagnan, who are you?" he asked.

"I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. If you want to come with me, I'll get a you a place to stay," he said quietly. The boy nodded and held up his arms. With a sigh, Athos hefted him on his hip, where the boy amused himself walking his cloth horse up and down his arms. Eight adoring women later, they were at the garrison and walking up the stairs to Treville's office. The Captain was absolutely going to love this. With a passion. When the Captain called for him to enter, he set the boy down on one of the chairs and stood behind it.

"And who is this?" Treville asked confusedly.

"This is d'Artagnan, he and his father had a little trouble with bandits last night and he needs a place to stay," Athos sighed.

"They shot Father," d'Artagnan whispered.

"And where are you from, is there anyone who can take you in?" Treville asked.

"I'm from Gascony, and no," he said quietly. Treville's face fell.

"I know the church is about full-up, but I can send messages out to see whether there's a suitable family. However, that doesn't solve our problem right now," Treville sighed.

"Well, we can't very well just drop him off at a street corner," Athos replied.

"What would you have me do, have him here at the garrison?" Treville asked.

"That's better than foisting him on a family we don't know!" Athos sighed. Why did he care? Athos didn't know the boy, didn't have a responsibility towards him!

"Who'll take him then? You?" Treville scolded.

"Maybe I will!" Athos replied, before he really knew what he was saying. Treville grinned.

"Very well then, you can have a day to settle him in. I'll go to the church and get them to send out some messages," Treville said smugly. Athos had been tricked, Treville had to be joking! Treville could find anyone more suitable than Athos! Porthos loved children, Aramis loved children!

"Captain, I can't..." Athos stuttered.

"Oh Athos, he's just a boy, and look at him, he's very excited to come home with you, aren't you lad?" Treville asked. Big eyes and a large smile greeted him from the chair, and the boy nodded vigorously. This was a fucking conspiracy, they were all against him! With a sigh, he looked down at the boy.

"I don't have room, or toys, or time to go chasing after you if you get into mischief," he said firmly.

"I don't take up much room, and I'll be very, very good!" the boy chirped.

"I'm sure," Athos drawled as he foisted him up; the boy looked exhausted. Aramis was going to have a field day with this, Porthos would probably try to be polite about it. When the two came in, d'Artagnan was on his lap and eating some bread that Athos handed to him. The horse, which apparently named Buttercup, was laying on the table. Serge had taken once glance at the lad and had given Athos a double portion. Well, at least the boy was good for something. Aramis gave him a smile as he sat down.

"And who is this?" he asked as he cooed at the boy.

"I'm d'Artagnan of Lupiac in Gascony!" the boy chirped. Aramis smiled.

"He's adorable, where did you get him?" Aramis asked.

"I'm taking care of him while we find a suitable family for him," Athos responded.

"I'm gonna stay with Monsieur Athos!" d'Artagnan responded. Aramis raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're going to take in a child?" he asked tentatively.

"Who is?" Porthos grunted as he sat down with a plate, "And who's the pup?"

"I'm not a pup!" d'Artagnan cried vehemently. Athos raised an eyebrow.

"This is d'Artagnan, he'll be staying with me until we find him a suitable family," Athos stated.

"And you volunteered?" Porthos asked incredulously.

"Why is this such a large shock to everyone, I'm not heartless!" Athos protested. Porthos quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, who's gonna watch 'im while we're on patrol?" Porthos asked, and Athos looked down at the boy. Shit. He hadn't thought of that. Porthos gave him a knowing smile.

"He'll go with me," Athos stated.

"And on missions?" he asked.

"Treville can watch him," Athos stated. Aramis gave a hum which said that he didn't believe a word of that, but left it alone. Well, it seemed that they were in this together...at least for now.


	2. Parenting Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys attempt to do right by d'Artagnan...with some mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a really light warning here for some situations that a child shouldn't really be in...and drunkenness.

Interlude- Parenting Attempt #1:

Athos looked up to make sure that d'Artagnan was balanced before setting off on patrol. His hat was on the boy's head, and Buttercup was cradled in his arms. He was situated on Athos' shoulders, the perfect place for a good view, Musketeers had to be ignorant of nothing, after all.

"And you know the rules, correct?" Athos asked firmly.

"Don't go off with strangers, stay on your shoulders, don't get into a fight, and if you have to fight, go back to the apartment," d'Artagnan stated proudly. Athos nodded and passed up some bread. The boy munched while he they walked out of the garrison.

"Bye-bye boys, have fun keeping the streets safe!" Aramis called.

"Don't let Athos frighten the innocents!" Porthos yelled. d'Artagnan turned and waved as Athos scoffed. Really, the boy had gotten on well, he hadn't complained, had tried to help around the apartment, had listened to everything Athos said, and hadn't caused any mischief. Porthos had even gotten around to carving him some wooden toys. After his bread was finished, he asked a horde of questions about where they were, what they were doing, what that person was doing, why this person was doing that, the list went on. The patrol went well until they met some Red Guards.

"Oh look, a Musketeer and a brat!" one cooed.

"'m not a brat!" d'Artagnan grumped. Athos shot him a look, and the boy glared down at Athos' boots.

"If you do not mind gentleman, we'll be on our way," Athos said with a cool look. A "misplaced" arm sent d'Artagnan reeling to the ground, and Athos crouched down in front of him, a snarl on his face. The ensuing tussle was really quite spectacular, and Athos was soon panting and nursing a black eye. He took a crying d'Artagnan from a well-meaning bystander and replaced both hat and horse.

"No more patrols," he panted. d'Artagnan shook his head vigorously.

\---

Interlude- Parenting Attempt #2:

Treville readjusted the boy on his hip as they watched the sparring down below. He really was quite adorable as he watched the men, his blue eyes sparkling in awe.

"I can't see why Aramis couldn't watch you, he has the day to himself," Treville sighed.

"Aramis isn't allowed to watch me anymore," d'Artagnan sighed.

"Really?" Treville asked.

"Yeah, Athos got mad, even though he was really fun!" d'Aragnan huffed.

"What happened?" Treville asked, though he immediately kicked himself for it afterwards. Did he really want to know?

"Aramis was watchin' me and said that we could go see a friend. We went, and her name was Mademoiselle Adele, she was really nice! She even let me play with her necklace! Then I got to go play with the maid while Adele and Aramis had a grown-up talk. The maid was fun, I helped her fold the clothes! Aramis came and got me after they were done with their talk and we went to go have dinner. When I told Porthos, he started chokin' on his food! Athos yelled Aramis' name real loud, and they yelled at each other. Then Athos said a word Porthos said I should never say, and then he covered my ears! I asked Porthos why Athos was so mad, and he said that it was because Aramis wrestled Adele in her bedroom, and that's not a proper thing to do. Why were they wrestling?" d'Artagnan asked. Treville was not prepared for this, and quite frankly, he was surprised that Aramis was alive.

"That's a question you'll have to ask Athos," he sighed, "Henri, get that blade up!"

\---

Interlude- Parenting Attempt #3:

"That one," d'Artagnan said. This was a fun game! Dujon was losing, and him and Porthos were winning! Porthos said that he couldn't tell Athos that they played this game, that it would be their secret. Porthos handed him another hunk of bread, and d'Artagnan took a sip of milk.

"Yeah pup, good choice," Porthos grunted. Dujon squirmed in his seat, and Porthos smiled at him. This was fun! "What do you think, three more sous?" Porthos asked. Well, they had what Porthos said was a good hand, and Porthos seemed to like sous. d'Artagnan nodded. The nice lady dropped off another cup, and the red stuff looked yummy! d'Artagnan picked up the cup and drank, and instantly coughed. That stuff was bitter! Maybe another sip... Lots of sips later, the nice lady whispered something in Porthos' ear. d'Artagnan's tummy felt awful, and the red stuff was gone!  He hiccuped.

"More?" he asked. His voice sounded funny! Porthos looked down at him in alarm.

"Pup, you drink this?" he demanded. d'Artagnan nodded.

"I tried to tell you!" the nice lady stuttered. Porthos scooped up his sous and picked him up.

"Bye Dujon!" d'Artagnan cried.

"Alright pup, let's go see Aramis," Porthos said quietly, "And pray Athos doesn't find us." They went to Aramis' and he opened the door.

"What happened?"Aramis asked, his eyes serious.

"We were playin' a game with Dujon, and the nice lady set some red stuff on the table, and I drank it, and I don't feel good," d'Artagnan said quietly. Aramis' eyes widened.

"He's going to kill you," Aramis whispered.

"I know, can you help me?" Porthos whispered.

"Get him inside," Aramis sighed. d'Artagnan took a nap, and then Athos was kneeling over him.

"Are you feeling better, Porthos said you got sick," he said quietly.

"Yeah, we had fun! We played a nice game with Dujon, and then the nice lady dropped off some red stuff that tasted sour, but I drank it all because it tasted better when I sipped it, and then it was gone and I felt sick, and then I took a nap!" d'Artagnan said. Athos raised an eyebrow Porthos. d'Artagnan wondered why he'd been cutting his hand across his throat while he told Athos. Aramis had his head in his hands.

"Porthos?" Athos asked.

"Yeah Athos?" Porthos replied, his eyes wide.

"How drunk is he?" Athos asked with a small smile.

"He-he had a whole cup of the good stuff," Porthos said with a grimace.

"Let's get you home, I don't think that red stuff will taste so good tomorrow morning," Athos sighed. d'Artagnan's tummy felt weird, and he moaned.

"Wanna nap," he moaned.

"That's what we'll do, and tomorrow morning, I'll teach you how to dunk your head in a bucket," Athos replied.


	3. Commodities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find an adoptive family for d'Artagnan, go on a mission, and learn something about Athos' mysterious past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand the new content for you guys who read the AU fic! Thank you so much for sticking with it, and please let me know what you thought!

Athos walked into the garrison with d’Artagnan on his shoulders. Now that the boy knew the garrison and its occupants well, Serge had allowed him to assist him in the kitchen. The arrangement was good for both boy and cook, and Serge was becoming quite proud of the boy’s skills. He swung him down, and d’Artagnan raced to greet Porthos with a hug to the leg, chattering on about the games he’d played with his wooden toys. Porthos listened with rapt attention, and Athos felt himself wondering what it would be like, just maybe, if d’Artagnan stayed. But no, that was not meant to be. The boy would go to a family that would care for him far better than they could. With a shake of his head, Athos sat down to breakfast and listened to d’Artagnan chatter about what he and Serge would be cooking today. As if on cue, Serge called for the boy, and he scampered over, thrusting Buttercup into Porthos’ arms. Cloth horses did not belong in kitchens. “Athos, Porthos, my office!” Treville called, “And where is Aramis?” At that moment, the man himself walked into the garrison, and all three men walked up the stairs.

“Captain?” Athos asked.

“As you well know, the boy has been with you for a month now, Athos. I’ve been contacted by a priest in La Havre, he’s found a suitable family for the boy, the Bonnaires. They seemed like a good couple from his assessment, but they will only be in La Havre for a short time. They are on their way to their new farm in the Caribbean, and will only be in La Havre for the week,” Treville explained.

“Are you sure that allowing the boy to be taken so far is wise?” Athos asked. Treville looked at him heavily.

“Athos, you are a King’s Musketeer, you cannot keep a child not your own forever. Either you must claim him formally, or you must give him up,” Treville stated. Athos ignored the small flare of hope at the first option.

“A Musketeer’s life is not for the boy. He deserves happiness, where will we meet the Bonnaires?” he sighed.

“At La Havre, their ship leaves in a fortnight,” Treville stated, “You can take the day and say good-bye, the Bonnaires would like him as soon as possible.” With a heavy heart, the three shuffled out of the office.

“Athos,” Porthos said quietly.

“No, this is best,” Athos corrected.

“Best for who? d’Artagnan worships the ground you walk on, and it’s obvious the boy has a place in your heart,” Aramis said quietly.

“And what happens when we’re called upon to make the final sacrifice, to lay down our lives for king and country?” Athos demanded, “What then? I-I shouldn’t be this attached to the boy, I’ve only known him for a month…”

“There ain’t no law against lettin’ someone in,” Porthos replied with a whisper, “I’ve seen how good he is for ya. You’ve hardly had more than one drink a day, and you smile.”

“We ride for La Havre tomorrow,” Athos whispered, choking back the tears that were threatening to come.

“And we’ll go, we’re with you Athos, all the way,” Aramis replied. They walked into the kitchen and saw Serge helping d’Artagnan cut spices.

“d’Artagnan, it’s time to go home, no duty today,” Athos said with fake happiness. With a squeal, d’Artagnan darted from the kitchen and seized Buttercup from Porthos. Swinging the boy onto his shoulders, he walked back to his apartments, and Aramis and Porthos turned away.

“We’ll see you two at The Wren for dinner, yeah?” Porthos asked.

“The Wren, The Wren! Please?” d’Artagnan asked. With a chuckle, Athos nodded and d’Artagnan cheered above him. They entered the apartments, and Athos sat down and pulled d’Artagnan in his lap.

“Lad, do you remember how Captain Treville was looking for a new family for you?” Athos asked gently.

“Yeah, but I stay with you until he does,” d’Artagnan said as he petted Buttercup.

“Well, a priest in La Havre met a very nice couple named the Bonnaires, and they wish to take you,” Athos explained. d’Artagnan looked up, his eyes wide.

“I-I thought if I was good, I could stay,” he whispered, “I thought you and Aramis and Porthos were my family.”

“Lad,” Athos whispered, heart now in pieces, “This is not about your behavior, this last month has been one of the funnest I’ve had in five years, maybe all my life. Know that if I could, I would keep you d’Artagnan, but we are soldiers, called to fight and maybe die for king and country. I could not bear it if you were left alone in the world, and you will be happy with this couple. Do you understand?” With a sniffle, d’Artagnan nodded.

“I can’t stay because you can’t watch me, and bein’ a Musketeer is dangerous,” he whispered.

“Yes, just so, besides, the Bonnaires will take you on a whole new adventure! You won’t be staying in La Havre long, you’ll be taking a boat to the Caribbean, to live on their new farm,” Athos said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

“Really?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Indeed, now let’s play with your toys before we pack them,” Athos replied with a smile. The afternoon was full of imagined adventures and games. When Athos walked d’Artagnan to The Wren, d’Artagnan greeted the serving ladies by name. They really did come here too often. Dinner was loud and raucous, but Athos could sense the underlying thread of sadness. When Athos tucked the boy into his small cot, Porthos ran a hand through his thick, dark hair.

“I’ll miss ‘im,” the big man whispered.

“Me as well,” Aramis added.

“But he’s a good lad, deserves a good home,” Porthos sighed, “We’ll be at the garrison early tomorrow, don’t wanna let him leave without the others sayin’ good-bye.”

“Of course, goodnight gentlemen,” Athos said. They both walked out of his apartment quietly and Athos fairly threw himself into bed. He pretended not to notice when a small figure rose from the cot and shuffled down under his blanket. When he rose in the morning, he woke d’Artagnan and took him to the garrison. It was obvious that the Captain had spread the news, for Serge was waiting there with a bag and a large spread on the table. All the other Musketeers were tucking in, and many called to d’Artagnan when they approached the table. d’Artagnan spent the morning chattering about the adventures that he was sure to have when they set sail, and Porthos regaled him with stories from the former sailors he knew. Finally, the breakfast was finished and the garrison gathered around to say their goodbyes, Serge even went so far as to lift the small boy up into a crushing hug. Treville hefted him on his hip and drew out a necklace. It was made a strong cord, and on the bottom was a wooden pendant, the fleur-de-lis carved into it.

“From your friends the Musketeers, to remember us by,” Treville said thickly as he placed it around d’Artagnan’s neck. The boy threw his arms around the Captain, shaking with repressed tears. The Captain strode over to Athos, who was already mounted, and passed him up. They left the garrison with well-wishes and goodbyes echoing behind them. They rode slowly that day, no one really wanting to arrive at La Havre. When they camped that night, Aramis turned towards Athos and looked at him with a quiet desperation.

“We can still turn around,” he whispered.

“Aramis, the boy needs a good family,” Athos sighed, “And I’ll not deprive him of that just for my own selfishness.” When they woke in the morning, they continued on their way. It was a three day journey to La Havre, and it flew by as only good times could. When they arrived, they quickly made their way over to the table that the Bonnaires specified. There, they found a couple sitting at a table, both of whom rose when they entered.

“I suppose you are Athos of the King’s Musketeers?” the man asked, “Emile Bonnaire, and my wife, Maria.” Athos dipped his head and shifted d’Artagnan on his hip. He sat down and pulled the boy into his lap. He fiddled with Buttercup and Maria Bonnaire smiled at him. They seemed like a good enough couple, though Athos knew from experience that appearances weren’t everything. They talked for a long while, and slowly d’Artagnan was drawn out of his silence. When Bonnaire began to talk of all the things that he and d’Artagnan would do, Athos knew that he would let the boy go. When the sun was high in the afternoon sky, Athos rose.

“With d’Artagnan’s permission, I believe that the matter is settled, he will go with you,” Athos said quietly. The boy nodded, and Athos handed his bag of belongings to Bonnaire. “We will go and say our goodbyes, and then we will leave you to get acquainted,” Athos said. Bonnaire gave them a smile, and Athos took the boy outside. Porthos brought the horses, and the boy looked up at them with tear-filled eyes.

“I’ll miss you,” he whispered.

“We’ll miss you too, pup,” Porthos replied. He swept the boy up into a hug, and Aramis and he completed their farewells soon after. Athos went down on one knee, and the boy rushed into his arms.

“Thank you for letting me stay, even if you didn’t wanna,” the boy said shyly.

“d’Artagnan, caring for you has been a joy, there is no need to thank me. I’ve left an address where messages can be sent in your bag. Make sure to write, and if you need anything at all, we shall come,” Athos whispered. With a final squeeze, he put the boy down. He ran back to the Bonnaires, and the Inseparables mounted up. They rode forward, and Athos forced himself not to look back, as he knew that one look would be all it took to break him. The day was a haze, and he was only stopped by a hand on his reins. He looked over to find a worried Aramis grasping Roger’s reins and looking at him with sympathy.

“I believe it’s time to make camp my friend,” he said quietly. Athos nodded and dismounted. He only prayed that his heart would find the strength to heal once more. When they arrived at the garrison three days later, it was with the resolve to try to go back to the way things were as quickly as possible, starting with a visit to the tavern.

\---

It had been four days, and d’Artagnan wasn’t sure that he liked the Bonnaires. The monsieur didn’t really pay attention to him, obviously expecting Madame Bonnaire to take care of him, only she didn’t! She would leave him in their room to play with Buttercup for a long time, not even giving him lunch sometimes! He didn’t want to ask, Father had always taught him not to demand things of strangers, but they weren’t strangers! Madame and Monsieur Bonnaire were supposed to be his new Mother and Father, but he didn’t even know if they liked him! Madame Bonnaire would glare at him lots, and ask Monsieur Bonnaire when they could get rid of him when they thought he was sleeping. He missed Athos and Aramis and Porthos. Even though Athos couldn’t watch him all the time, he made sure that he wasn’t alone, he would take him to Captain Treville, or Serge, or Aramis, or Porthos. Porthos would take him to play with Dujon (though he never let him touch the icky red stuff again), or Aramis would take him to the market and walk around with him. He missed his friends, but he they couldn’t watch him, he only hoped that the Bonnaires would learn to like him. They were eating breakfast quietly (he learned quickly that his chatter annoyed the monsieur) when two men in dark clothes met them. Monsieur Bonnaire got in a fight, and Madame Bonnaire threw him in the wagon. They didn’t even get his bag, Buttercup was in his room! He tried to tell Madame Bonnaire, but she only told him to be quiet. Monsieur Bonnaire jumped in the wagon, and he tossed Buttercup and the bag into the back with him. They raced off, and d’Artagnan missed Athos more than ever. They rode for two days, Madame Bonnaire in the back with him, and he was getting bored!

“Can I get out, I have to use the privy,” he said quietly.

“You may not, you can hold it!” Madame Bonnaire snapped. It was the third morning, when they were getting ready to get on the road again, when the men in black showed up, guns blazing.

\---

It was the second day his men had been back when he received the summons from the Cardinal. With a sigh which he was sure emanated from his boots, he mounted up and rode to the Palais de Cardinal. When he arrived, his horse was taken and he was shown to His Eminence.

“Richelieu,” he said forcefully, knowing that the niceties would not be adhered to or appreciated.

“I have news of the Spanish Treaty, an explorer has deemed it wise to break it,” Richelieu said nonchalantly.

“In what way, and why aren’t the Red Guards handling it?” Treville demanded.

“The man, one Emile Bonnaire, has already evaded our capture previously. I feel that this man requires a more...forceful touch. He is set to sail out of La Havre in two weeks,” Richelieu responded. Wait, Emile Bonnaire, Emile and Maria Bonnaire!

“What was the breakage in the treaty?” Treville breathed. Their treaty with the Spanish was loose and not all that enforced, so if the monarchy saw fit to intervene…

“Slavery, apparently he has a farm in the Caribbean,” Richelieu said as he looked through some letters. Treville braced his hands on his desk.

“Slavery?” he demanded, “How sure are you?”

“The Spanish are sure enough that they sent a company to bring him back,” Richelieu stated, “You will have him brought here, to answer to me.” Treville knew what that meant, apparently France would find itself investing in a farm in the Caribbean. Not on his bloody watch.

“I’ll see it done, if it can be,” Treville stated. Richelieu nodded and returned to his work. With that, he strode out of the office and raced back to the garrison. Porthos, Athos, and Aramis were just sitting down to breakfast.

“My office, now!” he barked. The three of them turned as one and joined him in his office. They must have seen the cold fury behind his eyes, and Aramis cleared his throat.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” he said nervously.

“Athos,” he said, not deigning to respond, “How did the Bonnaires seem to you?”

“A lively couple, but they seemed nice enough. The boy was willing to go with them, and they seemed amicable to the idea,” Athos said in confusion.

“I spoke to the Cardinal just this morning, the Bonnaires are to be arrested and taken to His Eminence,” Treville said heavily. Their faces froze, and he sat down behind his desk. He’d done this, told them of the Bonnaires, hadn’t checked them properly.

“On what charges?” Porthos growled.

“Slavery,” Treville replied, his heart heavy. What had he condemned the boy to?! Porthos’ hands slammed on the table, and his arms shook in rage.

“The boy?” Athos said, his voice choked with tears.

“I would assume that they weren’t interested in a son,” Treville sighed, best not to sugarcoat the situation.

“How sure is the Cardinal of these charges?” Athos demanded.

“The Spanish are after him too, for breaking the treaty, so I’m assuming that the charges are fairly sure,” Treville said.

“And the Cardinal’s probably gonna let him get away with it! If he wants to see ‘im, it’s because he’s interested!” Porthos growled in disgust.

“You’re to apprehend the Bonnaires and escort them to Paris. I’ll assume that d’Artagnan will remain with you,” Treville stated.

“You can be sure of that,” Aramis scoffed. They grabbed their hats and prepared to rush out of the room, but Treville cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen, I believe that the king would not be remiss in Bonnaire being captured by the Spanish to face their justice,” he said nonchalantly, shuffling through his papers. With a large grins adorning their faces, the three filed out of the room and mounted up.

Athos’ heart was thudding in his chest as they rode like the wind through Paris. He’d given the boy to slavers, slavers damn them! How could he, how could he not have checked?! He almost heard Treville scolding him, telling him that there was only so much that he could do. However, this did not ease the guilt in Athos’ heart. Beside him, he saw a dark fury in Porthos’ eyes, and he knew then that they would conveniently hand him over to the Spanish. Aramis was still, a stillness that mirrored his cold fury. God help the Bonnaires when they were found. They raced down the road until they finally registered Aramis’ concerned pleas to stop, and they were and riding before dawn the next morning. Athos was trying very, very hard not to think about how close to Pinon they were when he heard the shots. The three of them shared a look and thundered forward. A cry and wailing greeted them, and Athos fairly threw himself off of Roger. Ten men were surrounding the wagon, Bonnaire crouched under it, and the body of Maria Bonnaire was lying grotesquely in front of it. There was a shivering bundle near the front, and Athos’ heart broke for poor d’Artagnan.

“Hold!” Athos bellowed, “Hold in the name of the King!” He drew his arms away from his weapons. The men stopped firing, and one climbed down from his horse.

“I am Captain Alverez of Spain,” he said, his tone defensive.

“I am Athos of the King’s Musketeers,” Athos said. Under the wagon, Bonnaire was crawling towards freedom.

“Oh no you don’t, c’mere you!!” Porthos yelled as he seized the man by the collar.

“G-Gentlemen, I mean you no harm, I swear, I’m only a businessman!” Bonnaire whimpered.

“Indeed, though may I remind you that the slave trade is illegal in both France and Spain?” Athos asked.

“Well, I mean…” Bonnaire stuttered.

“You were gonna enslave the boy we entrusted you with, that you promised to love and protect!” Porthos growled, slamming him up against the wagon. Athos heard shuffling, and he looked to see Aramis squeeze halfway under the wagon, talking softly to d’Artagnan, whose wails were of a lessened volume.

“Gentlemen, I assure you that this was only business!” Bonnaire pleaded.

“As is this,” Athos stated nonchalantly, “Aramis, Porthos, I must feel inclined to surrender to Captain Alverez and his men. They are quite armed, and they have threatened to harm us if we do not hand over Bonnaire for Spanish justice, and we are quite outnumbered.”

“Yeah, they’re bein’ quite threatenin’, no choice really,” Porthos huffed. Aramis emerged from under the wagon, d’Artagnan in his arms.

“If only we knew that Bonnaire would face justice,” he sighed to d’Artagnan.

“I swear to you, Bonnaire shall receive his just punishment,” Captain Alverez said quietly, “And I would thank you gentlemen for...surrendering in such a cooperative fashion.”

“Anything for diplomatic relations,” Aramis said cheerily, while Bonnaire sank to his knees and proceeded to appeal to Porthos’ sense of mercy, the fool.

“Ride swiftly gentlemen, there are those who may come after you that will not be outnumbered,” Athos said heavily. The Spanish Captain nodded, and two men stepped forward to bind Bonnaire’s hands behind his back. He was heaved up onto a horse, and the company soon rode out. d’Artagnan was shaking in Aramis’ arms, and Porthos carried the body of Maria Bonnaire to the side of the road. Aramis deposited d’Artagnan into Athos’ arms, and he rubbed a soothing hand up and down his back.

“Shh, easy now, we’re here,” Athos murmured, “And we’ll not leave you.” A sob escaped from the boy, and Athos bounced him lightly in his arms. d’Artagnan’s sobs soon subsided, and Porthos and Aramis went to bury Maria Bonnaire.

“We keepin’ ‘im then?” Porthos asked when they returned.

“I believe that is a talk for another time,” Athos stated. He didn’t want to make such a large decision with emotions riding this high.

“Maybe we ought to find an inn, the village of Pinon is near,” Aramis said quietly. Athos’ heart slammed to a stop, and he tried not to let his fear show through. It had been years, they wouldn’t recognize him. They rode to the village, d’Artagnan bundled up in front of Athos, wrapped in Porthos’ blanket. When they arrived at the inn, Aramis went in to gather rooms, and Athos was afraid they were full up. There were many horses in front, and most of the lights were on. “They’re full up,” Aramis sighed as he came out, “There was a large party coming through tonight.”

“I might know a place,” Athos murmured before he could stop himself, “We need to get the boy someplace warm and check on him.” With that, he led them to his old home. When they arrived, both men looked to him in shock as he opened the doors.

“What is this place? Who lives here?” Aramis asked quietly. Athos looked down at d’Artagnan, made sure that he was sleeping in his arms, and turned back to Aramis.

“I own it,” he stated. He heard Aramis and Porthos whispered to themselves, but he was debating on which rooms to use. It would probably be best if they just camped out in the main room. He didn’t know the condition of the house, and it would be best if they only had to heat one room. Besides, it would probably be best if the boy weren’t alone tonight. What could have happened, what almost happened, still caused his heart to shudder in its cage. “There should be some blankets in the hall to your left, Porthos. We’ll sleep in the main room tonight, there should be room and furniture for all,” he stated. Porthos trooped off to the door Athos had pointed at, and Aramis went outside, mentioning something about his medical supplies and d’Artagnan. Athos tore the cloth off the smallest settee in the room and settled the boy down on it. Porthos arrived with the blankets, and Aramis came in with a bundle of firewood and his satchel.

“Porthos and I will go to the market, get some food, we’ll be back before nightfall,” Aramis said after he had made sure that d’Artagnan was not injured.

“We will be fine here,” Athos said as he tucked d’Artagnan in amongst the blankets. With a nod, Aramis and Porthos were off, probably to discuss the recent revelation concerning his past. The door clicked shut, and Athos sat down heavily. He wanted wine, multiple glasses of wine, and before he knew it he had gone to get a bottle. He poured some in a glass and drank it down. d’Artagnan snuffled in his sleep, and Athos mentally slapped himself. What had he been thinking, drinking heavily while d’Artagnan lay close by, afraid and unsure?! He took the bottle back to the kitchen and sat back down in front of the flames. He watched the tendrils of red dance of the floor, and soon his eyes closed. When he awoke, night had fallen. Rubbing his eyes, he stretched with a groan. “Aramis, Porthos?” he called. There was no answer, and d’Artagnan shifted behind him.

“Athos?” he groaned.

“Good evening little one, Aramis and Porthos should be back soon with food,” Athos replied, coming to kneel in front of the boy. After about an hour of playing with Buttercup, Athos sent d’Artagnan up to the old nursery to see if there were any toys worth salvaging. Athos stoked the fire and wondered where Porthos and Aramis were. It was after nightfall, and he was beginning to worry. Suddenly, there was a creak from behind him. Ah well, the house was old and empty, no doubt it would make some strange noises from time to time. When he turned around, it was only to be met with a torch to his temple. He crashed to the floor, and when he cleared his muddled thoughts, the house appeared to be aflame, and a cold specter was standing over him.

“Husband,” she purred, and the cold steel of a knife bit at his neck. A hand was grasping his hair in a painful grip, and he was forced to look up at her.

“You are dead,” he rasped.

“Remi cut me down as soon as you left in your cowardice,” she scoffed, “Did you think he would do anything less. Though, I will forever bear the marks of your love.”

“Why?” he rasped.

“Revenge, for my love, for my humiliation, for our...my life,” she whispered. A wail drifted down from above, and she turned her head. d’Artagnan, he was up in the nursery! With a smile, she dropped him to the floor, kicking him in the head and ribs.

“No,” he growled, scrabbling on the floor, trying to get up. But the dark fingers of unconsciousness were already invading his mind, and his heart cried out as he fainted.

\---

She dropped the torch on the settee and raced up the stairs. The flames were already licking up the walls, but she refused to execute a child for her vengeance, petty or not. She burst into the old nursery and beheld the cowering figure in the corner. He looked at her in terror, but she scooped him up despite his screams. She then beheld the dark hair, the blue eyes. It could not be! Lifted up the sleeve of his shirt, she beheld the scar. It was him, he was the right age, had the scar, the hair color, the eye color! With a smile, she set him on the floor and stripped off her cloak. Bundling him in the thick fabric, she picked him up once again and settled him in her arms. Time to leave. He clasped the cloth horse to his chest and whimpered, his eyes wide in fear. His fear could be assuaged later, they had to leave! When she descended the stairs, Athos was blinking his eyes open.

“Athos!” the boy screamed. Athos then, not Father, so he didn’t know who the boy was! Well, rest assured she would be keeping it that way! She had her son now, she had money, she could leave it all behind, go to England as she wanted. Athos tried to get to them, but collapsed. Good, she’d hit him hard enough then.

“No!” she heard him growl once more, “Please, not him!” With a smile, she walked out of the burning house, ignoring the boy’s screams. She mounted her horse with a great deal of effort, and together they galloped into the night. The boy pled with her, begged to back to the three idiots, but she remained strong. She was sure that once she explained everything, they would be fine. It was a full day’s ride to Paris, but if she rode quickly, they could make it by morning. Eventually the boy cried himself to sleep.

\---

When she took the boy, Athos had crawled, inch by inch, in pursuit. But soon, he began to cough and heave, and he was only glad that the boy was alive, though his safety was unsure. With a wracking cough, he fell to unconsciousness once more, though he could have sworn that he had heard Aramis and Porthos’ voice outside. The darkness washed over him, but was disturbed when a stinging object collided with his cheek. With a groan, he batted at the thing.

“C’mon Athos, _breathe_ , dammit!” a voice cried. Porthos? “Yeah, just breathe nice and easy for me,” Porthos soothed. Soon his eyes blinked open. Aramis appeared in his line of vision and held a waterskin to his lips. He drank greedily and coughed. Porthos pounded him on the back, and Aramis checked his eyes.

“Definite concussion,” he murmured.

“What happened, where’s d’Artagnan?” Porthos demanded.

“She-she took him,” Athos rasped, “My God, she took him.” And as as the remainders of his old life burned to the ground, both literally and figuratively, Athos sobbed in the arms of his friends.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Reunions and Knights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d'Artagnan learns a thing or two about the lady from the house and makes a new friend, while Porthos reunites with old comrades and finds them changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, another chapter!

When d'Artagnan woke up wrapped in a blanket and holding Buttercup, he thought that maybe he'd had a nightmare. He shifted in Athos' arms (even though they felt very strange!) and blinked up at him. The lady from last night smiled down at him and brushed his hair. "Just a little farther little one, and then we'll be in Paris," she murmured. 

"The Garrison, Captain Treville and Serge?" d'Artagnan asked. Of course she was going to take him to his friends, though why she'd left Athos in the fire he wasn't sure! 

"Not the Musketeers," she said quickly, "You'll be staying with me for a while."

"But Athos says I'm supposed to go off with strangers!" he protested, he knew the rules!

"But I'm not a stranger!" she laughed. 

"Yes you are, I don't know your name, and Athos didn't want me to go!" he cried, feeling tears well up in his eyes. No! He was a big boy, a Musketeer's boy, and he had to be brave. Aramis and Porthos hadn't been in the house, Aramis and Porthos would come after him, just like they did with the Bonnaires! 

"Little one, I promise you, you'll have a very good explanation for this when we get to my home," she said, sounding like she was scared. 

"Promise?" he asked. 

"Of course, we'll have a good breakfast and I'll explain how I knew Monsieur Athos," she said. Well, she seemed nice, and not the fake nice the Bonnaires had been, so he clutched Buttercup a little closer and asked her about the places they were passing. Soon, Paris loomed up before them. 

\---

"Do you know where she'd take him?" Porthos demanded as they saddled up the horses. Aramis had been stubborn in his arguments last night, refusing to let them move Athos until the morning. That didn't mean that they did not press for an explanation, however. When he'd spilled the entire story, his wife, the murder, the hanging, and then their very brief and jarring conversation, Porthos had wanted to ride as well, but Aramis had stood his ground. And so, they were saddling their mounts with a ferocity and preparing for the worst. He only hoped that she didn't harm the boy anymore than she already had by forcing him from what he knew. 

"No," Athos sighed, "Until last night, she was dead to me."

"Why would she take the boy?! I mean, I would understand getting him out of the house, no one wants the blood of a child on their hands, but why run off with him?" Aramis asked. 

"Vengeance, a life for the life I took from her," Athos sighed. 

"Do ya think she-she'd hurt 'im?" Porthos asked quietly. 

"I don't know, she murdered my brother," Athos breathed, "This is my fault, all of it."

"Her actions were her own, my friend, and I'll not have you wallow in self-pity," Aramis said vehemently, "We mount up and return to Paris, the Captain can send messages and help us search the city." With that, they were away, riding quickly into the country and towards the city. By the time they arrived at the garrison, it was afternoon, and they rushed up the stairs to report to Treville. When they regaled their story, the Captain looked at them blankly. 

"Thank God you got Bonnaire taken care of, that situation I'll explain the king. I'll send out messages for the boy, and I'll have three men search the city for two days. I'm sorry gentlemen, but I can't spare you or them any longer," Treville sighed. 

"Understood," Athos clipped out. They shuffled out of the office, and Porthos debated as to where they would begin their search. 

\---

The boy had been bathed, the smoke and ash washed from his body, and he had been fed. With a nod towards the maid, Milady was left alone with her son for the first time since he had been born. Always there had been someone there, the nuns from the convent, the d'Artagnans, but today she had him to herself. Her heart fairly singing with a joy she hadn't felt since her failed husk of a marriage, she sat down on the bed, the boy's locket heavy in her palm. 

"Would you like to know why you're here?" she asked quietly, "And will you not interrupt?"

"Yes please, and I won't interrupt," he said quietly, hugging the horse to his chest. 

"When I was younger, five years ago, I was married to a very nice man. He and I were very, very happy, and I was especially happy when I found out that I was going to have a baby. Before I could tell him, something happened, and I had to go away. I got to a convent, and there had a beautiful baby boy, but I had no money or relatives to speak of. I knew that I couldn't take care of the beautiful baby like I should, so I went to Gascony. There, I met a very nice farmer and his wife, and do you know what his name was?" she asked. 

"What?" the boy asked. 

"Alexandre d'Artagnan," she replied. 

"That's my father's name, was-was I the baby?" he asked quietly. 

"You were, the d'Artagnans had no children to speak of, so Alexandre promised to take care of you and to send you to me when you were thirteen," she explained. 

"But why did we go to Paris now, thirteen's a long, long time away?" he asked. 

"Well, I got a letter from Alexandre saying that you were coming, but he did not say why. Now that I've found you, you can stay with me!" she said. 

"But-but I wanna stay with Athos, and you might be lying!" he cried. 

"When I had you, I gave you a special locket, one with a forget-me-not, one that matched my own," she said quietly. 

"I have a locket like that, but I lost it," the boy mused. With a smile, she opened her palm and presented it to the boy, who gasped. "That's mine!" he cried. 

"Indeed it is, and see, it matches mine," she replied with a small smile. He examined the one round her neck, and looked up at her warily. 

"If you are my Mama, why did you leave, Mamas are supposed to take care of you!" he demanded. 

"I know, and I promise I didn't want to leave, I've been saving money so that you could come early, and believe me when I say that I've missed you every day of these four years!" she exclaimed. 

"I still want Athos," he said quietly. 

"I know, but can you stay with me for a little while?" she asked quietly.

"And then Athos?" he asked warily. 

"And then Athos, and if you don't like staying with Mama, you can go back after...a month?" she mused.

"That's a long time, he'll be worried!" the boy immediately protested. 

"Charles," she sighed, "Didn't Athos get a month?"

"Yes," he said.

"Then shouldn't I, so that it can be fair?" she reasoned. 

"So that I can see who I like better?" he asked. 

"Yes, and if you want to go back to Athos after that, you may," she said. 

"Can-can I call you Mama?" he asked cautiously. 

"Yes, I would be very happy if you did!" she said with a happy laugh. 

"I can't wait to tell Athos and Aramis and Porthos!" he cried happily. 

"No!" she said quickly, "It's-it's like a game, you see? This is our little secret, your secret Mama." She pleaded in her mind that the boy would understand. 

"Like the game Porthos and I play with Dujon, or that time Aramis let me hold his pistol?" Charles asked. 

"Yes, like that, it'll be our little secret. You cannot tell  _anyone_ , understand?" she asked. 

"Promise," the boy said stoutly.

"Very good, now let's have some fun! What is this lovely animal's name?" she asked. The boy introduced her to Buttercup, and together they played with some of the toys she'd made sure to acquire. She hadn't had this much fun in all her life. She was sure that she could convince the boy that his mother was better than some drunk any day, and if not, she'd be sure to sail for England before she handed him over. She would never lose her son again, never again would they be separated. 

\---

He'd already spent two weeks with Mama, and they were already having so much fun! She gave him nice toys, and she ate with him, and she told him lots of fun stories! She even helped him patch a hole in Buttercup! She didn't really leave him to himself that often, and they didn't play outside a bunch either. Finally, he asked her if they could go to the market, and she said yes! She took his hand and made sure that he had Buttercup, and he they walked out of the house. d'Artagnan made sure to wave good-bye to Kitty, the maid, and they looked around the big market. It was very big, and there were so many things! People were yelling about all sorts of things, children darted here and there, and mothers haggled for nice things. It looked like fun! He wanted to go and play with the other kids, but Mama still had his hand. He tugged a little, and she looked down at him. 

"Can I go play?" he asked, "Please?"

"Stay in sight, and don't touch anything," she warned, "Is there anything that you would like to eat this week?" He asked for some of his favorite rolls, and then he darted off. Him and Buttercup were off for an adventure! Maybe be could visit his friends, but he had to stay in sight! He was looking around when something crashed into him! 

"Watch it!" the voice scolded. He found a girl his age on top of him, and he smiled. She had red hair that stuck up all over the place, and she had pretty eyes.

"Hi!" he chirped. She raised an eyebrow at him and got off of him, brushing herself off. 

"This is a good dress!" she scolded. 

"Sorry," d'Artagnan mumbled. 

"You should watch where you're going, what's your name, I've never seen you before," she said with a small smile. 

"I'm Charles d'Artagnan, what's your name? I'm here with my...a nice lady," he said happily, barely remembering to keep the secret and tell her the story Mama had given him. 

"I'm Constance, my father's a baker here, would you like to play?" she asked. 

"Yes please, but I have to stay in sight!" he said happily. Maybe he'd made a new friend! They chased each other around for a while, but then d'Artagnan tripped and bruised his knee. 

"Maybe we shouldn't play that, maybe we should go see your Mama," she said after he sat down and rubbed it.

"She's not my Mama...well it's a secret," he said quietly, Father had always told him that it was bad to lie. 

"Charles, we're friends, right?" she asked. 

"Yes!" he chirped. 

"Then we tell each other secrets, right?" she asked. d'Artagnan looked down at Buttercup. 

"Well...okay," he said quietly. He told her about Father, and Athos, and Mama. 

"And she said that you only had to stay two weeks? Aren't you worried about Athos?" she asked. 

"Of course, but I have to stay in sight!" he protested. 

"The Musketeer garrison is a short walk, she won't miss you!" she protested. 

"Okay, but we have to ask your father," he said stoutly. 

"Okay, I just have to let him know. Ever since Mama died last winter, he's had to take care of me, so he lets me wander around the market while he sells," she explained. They yelled where they were going, and her father nodded when he looked at them. Soon, they began the walk, and they walked a long ways! 

"Are you sure this is the right way?" he asked. 

"I think we took a wrong turning," she murmured, "This is the Court of Miracles, I'm not supposed to go in here!" 

"We have to ask someone for directions, and I heard Aramis mention once that Porthos used to live here, maybe someone knows him!" d'Artagnan said. 

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to look, but Papa said that we have to be back by evening, when the market closes," she said quietly. 

"We could make it like a game," d'Artagnan said with a smile. 

"Alright, what game would you like to play?" she asked. 

"Well, I am the knight, and you are the fair maiden that I am to escort home," d'Artagnan mused. 

"Alright sir knight, escort me home!" Constance cried. d'Artagnan grabbed her hand so that they wouldn't get separated, when he saw a large figure up ahead. 

"Porthos!" he cried, "Porthos over here!" They raced towards the man, but they lost him in the crowd. They saw some stairs up ahead, and Constance turned towards him. 

"Maybe he went down here!" she cried. They both raced down the stairs, and they found themselves in a storage room. They carried on to the far end, which was a long ways away, and they saw lots and lots of barrels there! 

"I'm hungry," d'Artagnan sighed, "Let's see what's in here." They lifted up the barrels, and the sooty stuff inside smelled like Aramis' gunpowder! Wait, there were fuses coming out of them, and they smelled like gunpowder. "It's gunpowder!" d'Artagnan cried, "We have to let someone know!" 

"d'Artagnan, that's enough of the game," Constance scolded. 

"No, no, I'm not playing!" he cried. She climbed up and peeked into the barrel and saw the gunpowder. 

"Oh no, we have to find someone!" she gasped. 

"That's what I said, we have to find Porthos!" d'Artagnan cried. They both went back up the stairs and into the crowd. They walked around for a long time, and they finally heard Porthos' voice. 

"I won't go along with this Charon, not without knowin' what the hell you're doin'!" he cried. d'Artagnan grabbed Constance's hand and raced in. There was Porthos, and a man and lady! 

"Porthos!" he cried. Porthos whirled around, his eyes big, and pulled d'Artagnan in a crushing embrace. 

"Aw pup, thank God!" he breathed, "What are you doin' here?" 

"Constance and I got lost, and we saw you and thought you went down some stairs, and we found gunpowder, lots of it!" he said quickly.

"What?" he asked, "Charon, what is this? The stairs I passed, that's the storeroom for the king!" The man fidgeted, and the woman looked at him incredulously.

"Charon?" she asked. The man stared at them both, and Porthos moved in front of d'Artagnan and Constance. 

"They offered me money!" he protested.

"Money to do what?" the lady asked.

"To blow up the court! They swore that they would let a small group get away, and that we could go our own way once we were finished!" the man protested.

"So that's the job," Porthos breathed, "Ta go with you and Flea while hundreds die here."

"Please," the man whispered.

"I won't go along with it Charon, I can't. d'Artagnan, you and your friend show me the barrels," Porthos said, and he looked angry! Porthos turned his back on the man and reached down for d'Artagnan. The lady yelled, and d'Artagnan saw the man pull out a gun! He and Constance screamed, and the lady ran forward. The man shot, and the lady fell down to the ground! Porthos turned around and shot his pistol, and the man fell down too! He ran over to the lady, and d'Artagnan saw that she was grasping her side. The man was gasping, and lots of blood was coming out of his mouth! Porthos knelt down by him, and he said something quiet to the man. He put the man down, and then he came back to the lady.

"Go," she rasped, "Find the powder, I hear someone comin'."  Porthos hefted him on one hip and Constance on the other, and they got to the stairs. They told him where the powder was, and he ran to the back. 

"Lucky you two found this, they were labeled as apples," he sighed, "And ya can't really see the fuses." He pulled out the fuses, and him and Constance played knight and maiden in the back while he poured water in the powder. They heard someone coming down the stairs, and then Aramis was there! He gasped when he saw d'Artagnan, and d'Artagnan hugged his leg. 

"Hi Aramis!" he chirped. 

"Porthos, we have to get out, the Court's set to blow!" Aramis cried. 

"We already found it 'Mis, well, Constance and d'Artagnan did," Porthos sighed. 

"And did you wet it down?" he asked. 

"Yeah, I'm doin' it now," Porthos said, "Take these two up, will ya, and where's Athos?" he asked. 

"Arranging your pardon, we found the murderer," he said. 

"I'm done 'ere, we should leave, I shot their king," Porthos sighed, "And we oughta get Constance here home." Aramis scooped up d'Artagnan, and Porthos took Constance. 

"Where have you been all this time d'Artagnan?" Aramis asked. 

"With the lady!" he said. 

"She-she didn't harm you did she, she treated you well?" Aramis asked. 

"Yeah, I told her that you would worry, but she said that she talked to you and Porthos, and she would take me back after a month if I didn't like it!" d'Artagnan cried. 

"Well, you'll be going back with us now," Aramis said, and he looked really mad. 

"Your'e not mad?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"No, no, no, not at you!" Aramis said quickly, "At the lady!" d'Artagnan wanted to tell him about Mama, but that was their secret. d'Artagnan made sure that Buttercup wasn't hurt, and Porthos and Aramis dropped Constance off. He wiggled to be let down, and Aramis set him down. 

"Bye Constance, thank you for the help!" he chirped. 

"Bye sir knight, thank you for escorting me!" she said quietly. With that, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. Aramis made an "aw" sound behind him, and Porthos was smiling! 

"C'mon Lancelot, time for home," Porthos chuckled as he scooped d'Artagnan up. 

"Is Athos gonna be mad?" he asked. 

"Naw, though I wouldn't mention it was you two who found the gunpowder," Porthos said. Soon, they were back at the apartments, and Athos ripped open the door.

"Oh thank...d'Artagnan!" he cried. Suddenly, Athos had him and was holding him tight in his arms! "Where have you been?" he breathed, "Did she hurt you?"

"She didn't, she was nice!" he chirped. Athos didn't look like he believed him, and he ushered Aramis and Porthos inside. Aramis made sure that he was alright, and Porthos watched him as he ate. When they went home for the night, Athos tucked him into bed. 

"My toys?" he asked. 

"Gone," the man sighed, "But Porthos is making you all new ones!"

"Can I see Constance tomorrow, she was nice!" he chirped. 

"I'd rather you were at the garrison tomorrow, but perhaps soon," he sighed, "I don't think Aramis and Porthos are going to let you out of their sight for a good while." He wished d'Artagnan goodnight, and got into bed himself. When d'Artagnan climbed into bed with him that night, his dreams filled with shooting flames and scary ladies, Athos told him a story until he fell asleep. 

\---

She kept to the dark alleys, inching closer and closer to the garrison. She saw the big friend with Charles, swinging him around the courtyard as the boy squealed. The boy was hers, her son! And she would get him back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this as allot of d'Artagnan, but the doings of the boys were basically canon, with some major changes because of d'Artagnan's storyline near the end. Thanks for reading and feel free to let me know what you thought!


	5. All in the Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d'Artagnan sees Milady again, Athos learns some things, and the Cardinal is out to get the Musketeers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait you guys! I was going to do an AU for The Challenge, but it would just not come together in my head. Therefore, I'll definitely be mentioning some stuff that occurred in both that episode and "Knight Takes Queen", but the main focus will be the season finale. Warning in this one for kidnapping and some general nastiness towards children, though nothing too bad.

Athos settled d'Artagnan on his cot with a heavy yawn, and the boy burrowed into the warmth sleepily. It had been a hectic month, what with recovering the boy and d'Artagnan's problems in Gascony. It turned out that Alexandre d'Artagnan had been taking d'Artagnan from Gascony due to a viscous criminal, one that had been terrorizing Gascony for months. The boy's uncle had come to the family farm to handle it in the boy's stead, but had experienced problems with the criminal. All in all, it had taken them going down to Gascony and formally instating Jacques d'Artagnan as the farm's caretaker (with the agreement that a monthly stipend, along with a percentage of the profits of the farm, would be allotted to the boy) to end the dispute. When they'd brought Lebarge back in chains, the Red Guards of course had to muck everything up. Although, watching Treville trounce the man in a duel, finally skewering him in the chest, was very worthwhile. With a sigh, he tucked the blankets tighter around the sleeping boy and gazed down at him with a smile. Buttercup was tucked under one arm, the thumb attached to said arm settled firmly in his mouth, while his other hand clutched a newly-made blanket emblazoned with the Musketeer colors and made of soft cloth. Athos winced as he remembered the memory associated with that blanket. The Queen had been adamant that they escort her to a sacred pool, and she also convinced Athos (after hearing of the regiment's newest member) to bring the boy along. He should have known that that would end in disaster. They'd ended up holed up at a convent, and apparently, d'Artagnan had stopped Aramis and the Queen from committing treason by requesting that the man play with him. Athos could only be relieved by the disaster that had been averted. The Queen, who he assumed was equally grateful, had gifted him the blanket as a gift for his braveness at the convent. The King also seemed to be enamored with him, and he'd been forced to promise both monarchs frequent visits by the boy. He didn't know whether to be afraid or glad of the new babysitters. He supposed that he ought to settle on glad. With a smile, he ran a hand through the boy's hair, and he got into bed himself. He knew that there may be nightmares tonight, the mission with the Queen had ended in a shootout, and was prepared for the worst. True to form, d'Artagnan crawled in next to him after a few short hours, and he slowly drifted off to sleep. They woke late that morning, and the rush to the garrison was a little more rushed than usual. Once again, d'Artagnan found himself helping Serge in the kitchen. When they walked to The Wren, d'Artagnan sitting snugly on Athos' shoulders, he nudged him lightly. Athos looked up and saw that boy was gazing down at him pleadingly. 

"Can I play with Constance tomorrow?" he asked pleadingly. Athos smiled slightly and sighed. He didn't mind the two playing together, as long as they informed Constance's father of where they were going, and he found their growing friendship rather adorable. 

"I can take him, I have the day off tomorrow," Aramis volunteered. 

"I suppose," Athos sighed dramatically. d'Artagnan gave him a huge grin, and Porthos laughed. When they left The Wren, d'Artagnan curled up in Athos' arms half-asleep and sucking his thumb, Porthos came over quietly. 

"Think he's sweet on 'er?" he whispered with a grin. 

"Perhaps, in the way that children are," Athos said with a soft smile. 

"They are rather adorable," Aramis added. 

"Yeah, and it's good 'e has a friend," Porthos sighed. 

"Watch them tomorrow Aramis, we are not sure of the intentions of my wife, and I'll not have her spiriting d'Artagnan away again," Athos instructed quietly. 

"I will my friend, you have my word," Aramis said with a small smile. Athos nodded and they each went to their separate quarters for the night.

\---

As the morning sun rose, she entered the meeting place, making sure to stay in the shadows. As she saw he was alone, she advanced until she stood next to him. 

"The Musketeers are nuisance that must be dealt with," he whispered. Her heart soared, without the Musketeers, the boy was hers!

"I suggest Athos first, without him the Inseparables shall fall, and Captain Treville will be vulnerable," she whispered, sending up a silent prayer that he would not see through her guise. 

"Agreed, and Athos now has a weakness. Seize his boy, and he will come running into whatever trap is set for him," he said quietly. Her heart stopped, and she looked up at him. 

"And after?" she asked as steadily as she could, but apparently not steadily enough. 

"After, well, he has no use. Not getting squeamish are you?" he asked with a cruel smile. 

"No, it shall be done as you say, Your Eminence," she said quietly. With that, she walked out of the room, going as fast as she possibly could, but not nearly fast enough for her tastes. When she'd followed the group from The Wren last night, they'd mentioned the market. She set off as quickly as she could manage, sending a message to Kitty to pack her things as quick as could be. She would not allow her boy to be killed, and if that meant that she would sail for England quicker than she wished, then sail they would, she had enough money and influence there to get them by. She neared the market, and sighed in relief when she heard familiar squealing. 

\---

Constance ran ahead, and he ran after her as fast as his little legs could carry him. 

"I'm gonna get you!" he yelled. 

"Are not!" she taunted. Her red hair stuck up everywhere, and the hem of pretty blue skirt was ringed with dust. d'Artagnan looked back to check on Buttercup, but she was still with Aramis, horses didn't play chase. Aramis was still talking to pretty lady, not really watching them even if Athos told him to. All of a sudden, Constance stopped and pointed. "Isn't that your Mama?" she asked quietly. He looked, and there she was! She gestured for him to come over, but instead he ran over to Aramis. He pulled Buttercup from his grip, but all he did was ruffle his hair with a small smile. He and the lady kept talking, and d'Artagnan walked away. He would just go over to say hi, and besides, Mama was a secret! He walked over to him, and she scooped him up in a hug. 

"Would you like to go on an adventure?" she whispered. He didn't know, he hadn't told Aramis he was going anywhere, and he told her so. "Ah well," she mused, "If I give these flowers to your friend, he'll know what they mean, and know that you're with me. Now, would you like to go on adventure?" d'Artagnan nodded eagerly, and she gave the flowers to Constance. They got in a carriage with Kitty, and they soon set off on a bumpy ride. This was going to be fun! 

\---

Athos called out instructions as two recruits sparred in the yard, and Porthos was bellowing out both insults and suggestions. Athos stiffened and went silent when Aramis came running into the garrison. He dashed up to the table, and tears were leaking out his eyes. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he panted. Athos raised an eyebrow, and Aramis cringed. 

"Where's d'Artagnan, Aramis, where is he?" Athos demanded, gripping Aramis by the shoulders. 

"I swear, it was only for a few minutes! I was talking with a woman in the market as he and Constance were playing! When I looked at them again, he was gone, and Constance gave me these flowers. I ran off as soon as they were in my hand," Aramis said tentatively. A bouquet of forget-me-nots was placed in his hand, and his heart thudded to a stop. With a cry, he swung his fist, and Aramis crumpled to the ground, new tears running down his cheeks. 

"You gave me your word!" he yelled, "You gave me your word that you would watch him, and now he's gone!" Two strong arms were wrapped around him, and Porthos clasped him to his chest. 

"It ain't his fault," he contradicted, "She was the one who took 'im, and this ain't helpin' d'Artagnan!" Athos nodded shakily and helped Aramis up. 

"I am sorry," he said quietly.

"No, no, I was supposed to be watching him," Aramis said quietly. 

"And she took him, it wasn't your fault," Athos sighed, "I was being a fool." They saddled their horses and began to scour Paris. 

\---

They were just outside the city limits when she noticed the riders. Her heart sank into stomach, and she realized that he'd had her followed. The Red Guards surrounded the carriage, and she clutched the boy to her protectively. He clung to her and his cloth horse, and she hardened her heart. 

"Gentlemen," she greeted. 

"The Cardinal thanks you for procuring the boy," one sneered.

"Anything for His Eminence," she stated cordially. The knife, the knife she had hidden up her skirt! Inch by inch, she slid her hand towards her skirts, but one of the guardsmen pointed his pistol at her head. 

"Give us the boy," he growled. 

"Of course!" she replied. d'Artagnan looked up at her with wide eyes, and she rubbed a hand on his back. "I will escort the boy to His Eminence with you."

"You will continue on your way!" a Red Guard growled. With a stiff nod, she put her arms around the boy. He put the horse in her lap, and she hefted him into the waiting arms of a guard. He looked at her fearfully, but she only nodded slightly at him. He didn't fight the men, and for that she was glad. She wanted to be sick at the thought of her boy in the hands of the Cardinal, but he'd given her the location of where they usually took prisoners. She knew that to fight was to die, and with her death would die any hope of rescuing the boy. When the guards rode off, she knew what she had to do, though it angered her. 

"Set course for Paris," she commanded. 

\---

Athos was slumped on the bed of his apartments as Aramis and Porthos watched him with concern. 

"He's gone," he whispered. 

"Now now, we ain't looked everywhere yet!" Porthos contradicted. Tears flooded Athos' eyes, and arms encircled him. 

"Why?" he asked brokenly, "Has she not stolen enough?" Just then, steps approached his door, and someone entered the room. He looked up to see who would intrude upon them, only to gasp. "You!" he snarled. Porthos clasped him to his chest in order to restrain him.

"Me," his wife stated. 

"Where is he?" Athos growled, "Where's the boy?"

"With the Red Guards," she stated. 

"You gave him to the Cardinal?!" Athos yelled. 

"Not by choice! I tried-I tried to escape to England with him, but I was followed!" she cried. 

"Why?" he breathed. 

"Do you remember, the day Thomas died, when I said that I had a surprise for you?" she asked cautiously. He remembered that moment, how excited he'd been, only to find her over Thomas a few hours later. 

"Yes," he whispered.

"d'Artagnan may have my hair, but he has your eyes, and almost everything else of yours. I'm surprised you didn't guess earlier," she sighed. Bile rose into his throat. 

"No!" he gasped, "He's not...!" A large hand slowly rubbed up and down on his back. 

"You hung me five years ago, d'Artagnan was born seven months later," she whispered, a faraway look in her eye. She told him the entire story, everything from the hanging to the farmers. 

"And you-you just handed him off to strangers?!" Aramis demanded. 

"I had no choice, I was friendless and penniless! I made an agreement with the husband that the boy would be sent to me at thirteen," she shot back. 

"And me? I would just go through life not even knowing my of my son, or that you lived?" Athos whispered. 

"It's no more than you deserve!" she hissed, "You almost killed him! Thomas attacked me, and you  _hung_ us!"

"I am sorry," Athos said softly. She knelt down in front of him. "I could've killed you, killed him!"

"But you didn't," she sighed, "But that isn't important."

"Do you know where he is?" he asked. 

"Yes, I can guide you there. But I'll warn you, the Cardinal is expecting you, though I would not say this early," she replied. With a nod, he donned his hat. 

"We'll go to the garrison and gather reinforcements, it's time we ended this," Athos growled. Aramis and Porthos left, and she was about to walk by him, but he clasped her arm. "This does not atone for your sins. For hanging you, I will forever be sorry, especially now, but know that you cannot have him. You cannot raise our son," he whispered. For the first time he'd ever remembered, tears filled her eyes. 

"I know," she rasped, "It was a dream, but it was a good dream." With that, they left. When they arrived at the abandoned house, they found the guards. It was a minor shootout with the guards, and soon Athos walked out with d'Artagnan in his arms. They took him back to Athos' apartments, and Treville handed Athos numerous sheets of parchment. 

"Captain Treville has agreed that in exchange for a full pardon, you may leave the city, never to return," he said quietly. With that, the Captain, along with Aramis and Porthos, left the room. 

"Why are you leavin'?" d'Artagnan asked, "I want you to stay!" 

"You'll be staying here with Athos, like you wanted!" Milady replied. 

"But can't you stay too?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"I can't, my sweet, no matter how I may wish it. Do you remember the story of your father?" she asked. 

"Yeah, you had to leave!" he said slowly. She held her hand out for Athos' locket, and she showed d'Artagnan the picture of the flower. 

"See, just like mine and yours," she whispered. 

"It was you?" d'Artagnan asked, "Why didn't you say?"

"I wanted to wait until you were older," she said quietly, leveling a heavy look at Athos. 

"So now we can be together!" d'Artagnan chirped, "You're Mama and Athos is Papa, and we'll have lots of adventures!" Tears filled her eyes, and Athos pitied her in that moment. 

"No, Mama has to go on dangerous adventures, too dangerous for Papas and d'Artagnans," she said quietly. 

"And you won't come back?" he whispered, understanding finally dawning in his eyes. 

"Papa will stay here with you," she whispered. 

"And Mama will write every day," he added quietly. She looked up at him, obviously startled, and he gave her a small nod. 

"Yes, Mama will write long letters every day," she whispered. He nodded slowly. 

"And Mama won't be going just yet, I have to talk to the captain, and she has to write a letter, and then she can put you to bed," Athos said quietly. She shot him a thankful look, and he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Porthos and Aramis were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. 

"She gonna write the confession?" Porthos asked quietly.

"Yes, she'll be out of the city by morning," Athos added quietly, "He knows now."

"Poor boy," Aramis sighed. 

"She promised she'd write, and I'm inclined to believe her," Athos sighed. 

"And you, how are you?" Porthos asked knowingly.

"I could've killed him," he whispered, and Porthos drew him into his arms. 

"But you didn't, that's the important thing," Porthos whispered, "And you're here for him now."

"I've always wanted to be an uncle," Aramis mused. 

"Yeah," Porthos chuckled, "Uncle Porthos, I like the sound of it."

"I'm not ready for this," Athos whispered. 

"Of course you are, you've been takin' care of the boy for almost three months now!" Porthos contradicted, "And we'll be there to help ya! Now, we'll report to the Captain, you go up and be with you son and wife." With a gulp, he ascended the stairs slowly. When he entered the room, the parchments were filled with scrawl, and his wife was on the bed. d'Artagnan was in her arms, and she was crooning a slow lullaby as he slept. His eyes were red from his tears, and her eyes were wet. He sat down next to her cautiously, and she looked up at him. 

"I'm sorry, sorry for keeping him from you," she whispered. 

"No, you were right to do so, I acted in a horrific manner towards you both. If you had not seduced Remi..." he choked out. She gave a little huff. 

"And I was not honest with you about my past, something which should have been done. Promise me you'll take care of him?" she whispered. 

"You have my word, and you can write him at any time," he whispered. 

"All these long years, without you, crawling in the gutter and then working for Richelieu, taking him to England was all I dreamed of. We would have been happy there, safe," she whispered. 

"Yes, but the Cardinal must be stopped," he whispered. They sat there until the dawn, talking of small things, of things they wanted for the boy. When the dawn came, she held him close placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Handing him to Athos, she withdrew a soft blanket. It was a soft thing of pure white, and across it was stitched the name Charles d'Artagnan de la Fere. "A good name," he rasped. 

"For a good boy," she said quietly. She set the blanket down on the bed, and then she was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we're done! I'm thinking about doing a Season 2 continuation of this, but I'll definitely have to see! Please let me know what you thought, and if you'd like to see this continued! Thank you so much for all the support and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
